


Trust Me

by kuroginga



Series: PolyEd Drabbles [1]
Category: Jazzpunk (Video Game)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, LMAO, M/M, get the fuck off my god damn roof, teen and up because mentions drugging, that gay shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 14:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15632460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuroginga/pseuds/kuroginga
Summary: get the fuck off my god damn roof





	Trust Me

**Author's Note:**

> Names:  
> Polyblank - Pollux  
> The Editor - Edmund

The Editor had just finished his latest glass of wine, as he wandered around his large penthouse.  
He took in his surroundings as if he hadn't seen them before, examining paintings, and running his hands delicately across furniture.  
Edmund then took a gander upwards towards his skylight—oh my god.  
Is that Polyblank, he thought to himself.   
In the skylight was a partial view of Polyblank's pale face, which seemed to be at peace.  
Edmund's heart jumped.  
He couldn't be dead could he?  
Oh my god.  
Oh my god.  
He immediately heads through his living room, opening a door, and rushing up the stairs.  
Of course it was raining, all over his expensive robe, too.  
At this point, Edmund didn't give an ever loving fuck about his robe, he was too worried about Polyblank being dead.  
How could he be dead, nothing kills that disaster of a man!  
He could fall off a cliff and survive.  
What has killed him, Edmund's mind crawls with all of the gruesome possibilities.  
"Polyblank...?"  
The rain is coming down hard.  
"Polyblank, please, answer me," the Editor pleads.  
The spy shifts before Edmund, which causes the him to let go of the breath he had been holding.  
"Wake up, you idiot, you scared me."  
"Huh?"  
The black haired spy turns his head to face the Editor, half awake.  
"I said, wake up, idiot. Christ, you're soaked."  
"I...where am I?"  
The Editor puts his hands on his hips.  
"You're on my roof! How did you even get here?!"  
"Well,"  
Polyblank faces the Editor, sitting upright.  
"Last thing I remember, I was drugged. I don't know what they did to me. And...I don't feel so well."  
The Editor smiles meanly.  
"You don't look so well, either."  
Polyblank frowns.  
"You're coming inside, you're sopping wet."  
"What?" Pollux's eyebrows raise.  
"I said,"  
The Editor bends down, wraps his arms around Polyblank, and pulls him over his shoulder.  
"What the hell are you doing? I-ugh-don't need your help."  
"You're coming inside, Polyblank, you have no choice in the matter."  
Pollux tries to readjust himself, as Edmund's shoulder digs into his abdomen.  
"You know, Polyblank. You should let people help you. This shows a lot about your possible trust issues."  
"Editor, if you don't put me down, I'm going to give you hell. I have a gun."  
"And I don't care, you won't shoot me, I know you won't."  
Polyblank growls.  
"That was a one time thing, I...I'm human. It wasn't because of you."  
"Polyblank, I've seen you shoot many people without a shard of hesitance."  
"It was work!"  
Editor steps down the stairs, and Polyblank chokes, each step jabbing a bony shoulder into his stomach.  
"Killing me was work, too."  
Polyblank remains silent, as he is carried to the Editor's bedroom.  
"Can you put me down now?"  
"I am."  
The Editor releases Polyblank, letting him regain his balance.  
"Don't sit on the bed, you'll get it wet. Now strip."  
"What the hell?" Pollux cries, "Are you out of your mind, at least take me on a date first!"  
"No, idiot. I need to give you new clothes. I won't look, I'll be picking out your outfit."  
"Can't I pick out my own?"  
The Editor grimaces.  
"These are my clothes, you'll deal."  
Edmund turns around, and rummages through his dresser.  
"Agh!"  
Polyblank folds his arms over his middle, doubling over.  
"What's wrong, is something wrong?"  
The Editor panics, resting his hand on Pollux's shoulder.  
"I know what happened, they gave me a god damn virus. Oh my god."  
"Wait...a virus? You're an android?"  
Polyblank sighs.  
"No, I'm a cyborg. Can't you tell by my eyes?"  
"Right, but do you need anything? Water? Alcohol?"  
Pollux gently waves off the Editor's hand with his own cybernetic one.  
"I...don't need your help."  
"Let me, you have a virus. Speaking of injury, do you have any?"  
Polyblank looks away.  
"No, I don't."  
The Editor starts tearing away Polyblank's layers.  
"Hey, what the hell are you doing?!"  
"You're lying, I can tell."  
Once his jacket is off, there is a great red stain upon the white button up shirt, about mid-length down his right side.  
"Oh god."  
Edmund goes to unbutton Pollux's shirt, but he stops him.  
"Wait, please just stop being so forceful. Fine, I'll let you help me, but just please, slow down would you?"  
The Editor pauses, heeding to Polyblank's words.   
He pulls the buttons from the slits with a careful tug on each, and then guiding the white, albeit soaked undershirt off as it clings to Pollux's skin.  
The brunet then examines Pollux's wound in his side, caressing the maltreated and mangled skin.  
Polyblank hisses at the touch, his metal hand hovering over the Editor's wrist in preparation to grip at it once he gets too close.  
"It's nothing a bit of water, some soap and bandages can't fix. Come with me."  
"Are you sure?"  
"Polyblank, look."  
The Editor takes Polyblank by both of his wrists.  
"I'm sure, you have to trust me."  
Pollux stares, turns his head to the side, then back to face the Editor.  
He nods, and Edmund lets out a sigh of relief before lightly guiding him to his bathroom.  
Edmund signals for Pollux to sit, in which he does on the toilet seat, after setting the lid over it.  
He then squats to reach through the cabinet under the sink, nearly hitting himself in the face with the door.  
Shuffling ensues, and soon a bundle of bandages are retrieved from the small compartment.  
Edmund grabs a facecloth, wetting it under the faucet, and getting to work.   
He drags the damp cloth ever so gently over the wound, but Polyblank still winces.  
"It's okay, it'll be over soon."  
The Editor hushes the spy's yelps with soothing words.  
"Okay, it's over. It's over."  
Edmund picks up the bundle of bandages, when Polyblank suddenly holds onto the space between the Editor's neck and shoulder for dear life.  
"Polyblank?"  
Pollux's breathing stutters through gritted teeth.  
"It's the virus again, huh? I'll finish this up."  
He did as what was said, and used both of his hands to wrap the thick bandages around Polyblank's middle.  
He hesitates, scanning Polyblank head to toe.  
"You alright?"  
"I...it hurts. Why haven't people made a cure for this yet?"  
"Beats me, Poly dear."  
Polyblank blinks, and looks up, face dusted a bit pink.  
"Did you just call me 'dear'?"  
"I, uh, call everyone that."  
"Yeah okay," Polyblank smirks.  
"I'd punch you right in your wound if I wasn't such a gentleman. That's why I'm taking care of you, to keep up my morale."  
"Yeah okay!" Polyblank giggles quite adorably.  
Oh how adorable he is.  
"What are you laughing at?"  
It just makes you want to kiss him, huh?  
No, you can't do that.  
"I'm laughing at you!"  
"Quit it!" Editor smiles.  
Oh, how I'm falling in love with you.  
Polyblank laughs, in his lovely voice that the Editor had grown well attached to.  
Pollux smiles as well, blinking, then looking away.  
"Come on, Polyblank. Let's go sit on the couch."  
The Editor leads Pollux away to his living room, and moves the soft blanket to make room for his guest.  
He sits down, burying his form in the blanket's fur, silently offering to share.  
Polyblank's face blanches, his eyes turning a anxious yellow.  
"What's the matter? Your eyes just changed."  
The black-haired spy lowers his head, placing a mechanical hand on his upper arm.  
"Are you alright, Polyblank? Do you need something? Speak up."  
Polyblank hesitantly sits as far away from the Editor as possible, his face a bright red now.  
"You can get closer if you want, no need to be shy. Go ahead, get comfortable, the storm isn't supposed to pass until late tomorrow."  
Polyblank's breath hitches, his hands automatically gravitating to his head, in pain.  
The Editor leans over rather quickly, attempting to rub the spy's shoulder, but a cold metal hand clutches his wrist before he could even touch him.  
"Woah, woah, easy. Easy. I'm here to help."  
Edmund sits closer, removing Pollux's hand from his wrist.  
"Where does it hurt?"  
Pollux refrains from speech.  
"Your head?"  
He nods.  
Edmund tries to lean closer, but there comes a resisting hand against his chest.  
"Let me help, Polyblank."  
The bionic hand doesn't budge, which results in the Editor lightly massaging Polyblank's tense forearm.  
"It's going to be okay. I'm here."  
Polyblank eyes flick to the Editor, and he removes his arm, allowing the Editor to help him.  
"Good, that's good. Come here."  
Edmund pulls Pollux into his lap, so Pollux rests his head on his chest.  
He covers him with the blanket, resting his head on his.  
"You'll be alright."

**Author's Note:**

> get fucked my boy


End file.
